Kyle slipped into the semi-crowded theater just as the previews ended, the warm glow of the screen washing over rows of unsuspecting faces. He found an open seat in the middle of a long row-safe, anonymous, dark. People around him were settled in, whispering, snacking, laughing softly. Perfect cover.

The comedy began, bright and ridiculous on the enormous screen. The audience chuckled, and Kyle tried to lose himself in the noise. But somewhere behind him, in the shifting blackness above the seats, something else was watching.

He didn’t notice the first change.

A faint tug at his scalp-nothing more than the feeling of static… until his brown hair slowly drained to honey blond in the dark, unnoticed even by him. Then it parted neatly into two straight, girlish pigtails that draped over his ears and began to lengthen inch by inch.

He didn’t see the makeup either. Powder smoothing over his cheeks, color tinting his lids, mascara clasping each lash with meticulous, unseen fingers. His lips grew glossy, sweet, faintly waxy. The taste of lipstick touched his tongue.

He ignored it.

Maybe he thought it was residue from a soda he hadn’t even bought.

His body shifted next-hair silently vanishing from his legs, arms, chest, every trace of it dissolving into the dark. His skin became smooth, soft, unfamiliar. But the theater air was cool, the movie loud; he chalked up any odd sensation to imagination.

Only when his hair reached his shoulders-so long that it brushed them like someone behind him was playing with it-did a flicker of worry tickle the back of his mind.

*That’s... not right.*